Greenland: The End of the World by Koncnik Damjan

Author:Koncnik, Damjan [Koncnik, Damjan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Blue Fuji Publishers
Published: 2011-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Return to Nanortalik

Upon arrival I set out for the tourist office to drop in on Niels. After a hearty handshake and a round of questions about my time in Aappilattoq, I asked him to point me toward a spot of ground where I could camp. 'Pick a lake,' he said, meaning one of the many surrounding the town. 'Then pitch your tent so you are facing historical Nanortalik.'

He then started in about the very special event going on in town that very next day – an occasion centered around the beginning of the school year, something I was fast becoming acquainted with. 'The Saturday before is always a lively good time, Damjan. Your timing is perfect!'

Rather than the dockside farewell routine I'd seen in Aappilattoq and Frederiksdal, here in Nanortalik there would be a ceremony of admission of newcomers to the elementary school, a ritual attended by the entire village, many dressed up in traditional Greenlandic garb. This trekker, of course, would have to try to blend in wearing dirty hikers and Gore-Tex.

Another warm handshake and I left Niels to find a home among the quiet lakes lining the edges of town.

In the morning I got up extra early to take in the local fish market, the true heart and soul of any town or village that has one. Tables, buckets and boxes sat in crooked stacks and rows, overloaded with freshly-caught fish alongside samples of seal meat and entrails. The pungent aroma permeated the air and my nostrils. Watery blood and bits of marine flesh splattered and squished underfoot. My senses were intrigued – and very soon saturated. I promised myself I would return after the day's festivities to pick up some fresh catch and prepare myself a nice Greenlandic seafood meal over a campfire.

Rolling up to the school I saw that a fair group of parents had already gathered. More than a few of them were decked out in their national costumes. I shuffled my boots, trying to wipe away the mud and shreds of tissue.

The traditional female costume is beautifully intricate, silk or cotton colored a rich crimson, embroidered in bright colors across the chest and shoulders and on down to the elbows. The thick black collar is made from seal skin, as are their pants, richly laced and decorated down to their deerskin boots.

The ceremony began with the incoming students filing onto the stage. (Cute as kids in uniform I'd have to say.) They were greeted by the school's headmaster and each of them was given a Greenlandic flag. With the top half white, representing the icecap over Greenland, and the bottom half red to represent the deep fjords (though to that point I hadn't seen any red fjords), the flag has the same color scheme as the Danish flag. In the middle lies a circle, the lower white half an abstract image of an iceberg, the top red half combining with the white to symbolize the polar day and night.

At one point, after no signal I could ascertain, people in the crowd suddenly began chucking coins onto the stage.

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